


Darkened, To Be Rekindled Soon

by Havendale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gabriel (Supernatural) Lives, Guilt, Happy Ending, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Multi, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havendale/pseuds/Havendale
Summary: Post-Season 13. Sam is equal parts worried and jealous over Gabriel and Rowena’s new relationship. But there’s a few things Gabriel and Rowena haven’t told him.





	Darkened, To Be Rekindled Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Set in some nebulous future/alternate universe where everybody’s alive and non-possessed. Detailed warnings at the end.

It was a few weeks after Gabriel came back that Sam realised the thing in the library hadn’t been a one-off. Up till then he’d been mostly trying not to think about it. Whenever he did, it was with a feeling of guilty envy - the same sour feeling he’d had when he was a kid poring over the Sears Christmas catalogue, looking at all the things he couldn’t have. The only consolation was that Gabriel and Rowena didn’t seem interested in a repeat. If he wasn’t unselfish enough not to feel jealous, at least he didn’t have much to be jealous over.

He went on thinking that right up until he walked into the kitchen at half past four in the morning and saw Gabriel sprawled on one of the stools with Rowena in his lap.

“Oh. Uh, hey, Sam,” said Gabriel. “Well. Uh. _This_ is awkward.”

“Samuel,” said Rowena, slipping out of Gabriel’s lap, “good morning.” There were smears of gold powder around her eyes, and her cheeks were flushed red. Gabriel’s gaze was fixed on her.

Sam blinked at them. “Seriously –?” he said, blearily. “In here?”

“It’s where we happened to be,” said Rowena.

“What are you guys even doing up?”

“Uh – archangel, witch?” said Gabriel, gesturing between them. Sam thought he remembered Rowena once saying something to him about needing beauty sleep, but he might have been mistaken. “Anyway, you’re not exactly in a position to judge.”

It was a fair point. He’d woken up with a jolt around three, his heart pounding, and lain awake for an hour and a half before giving up and admitting he wasn’t getting back to sleep. But he wasn’t going to get into that with Gabriel, and before he could think of a plausible excuse, Rowena peered into the microwave door and winced at her reflection.

“Well,” she said, “not that three isn’t company, but I’ve got to go and put my face back together.”

After she was gone, Sam and Gabriel stared at each other.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Sam.

“Eh,” said Gabriel, with exaggerated carelessness, “our bad. Should’ve figured somebody might walk in. Again. But, uh, you know how it is. You share a midnight snack with a three-hundred-year-old witch, you get to telling her how you pissed off the Empty so much it hurled you back to Earth, next thing you know she’s pushing you up against the fridge.”

“Yeah,” said Sam – it was the only thing to say – “that’s never happened to me.”

“Too bad for you. Anyhoo _,_ ” said Gabriel, “ _mea culpa_. Next time we’ll put a sock on the door.”

It was only a second or two that Sam froze – though it was long enough for Gabriel to notice, of course: God only knew what Gabriel could see, if he put his mind to it. Next time, Sam thought to himself: _next time._ Gabriel, mercifully, didn’t say anything.

“Well, uh – good luck _,_ I guess,” Sam said, tentatively – testing the waters. He was still expecting Gabriel to laugh it off, or at least hoping for it. But instead the golden eyes softened a little.

“Thanks,” said Gabriel, and a pit opened up in Sam’s stomach. Still soft-eyed, Gabriel smiled. “She’s really something, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Sam. He was amazed that his voice sounded almost steady. “I know.”

* * *

After that morning, Sam didn’t walk in on Gabriel and Rowena again. Maybe they’d decided to stick to the bedroom; or more likely, Sam thought, they’d just got better at being discreet. He made the mistake of bringing it up with Dean, and afterwards he couldn’t go near the kitchen table without his eyes and nose streaming from the Lysol fumes in the air.

Now and then, when Dean had bundled Cas into the kitchen to teach him how to make Italian meatloaf or chicken-fried steak, and Gabriel and Rowena were off crashing parties in Paris or gambling in Macau, the sour, envious feeling flared up inside him again. He was disgusted with himself. Lucifer was dead – really dead, at last – and Dean was free. Michael was locked away in Heaven. And his family was safe: Mom and Bobby were just a phone call away, hunting together in the southwest, and Jack was in the Bunker where he belonged. Even Cas looked a little less haggard these days and smiled a little more. What did it say about him, Sam wondered, that with his family safe and the happiest they’d been in ages, he was still hung up on the one thing he didn’t – couldn’t – have?

“Dude,” said Dean one afternoon, when they were out together on a grocery run, “what’s up with you lately?”

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean how you’ve been moping around the past few weeks.” Dean tossed a loaf of brown bread into the cart and turned back to face Sam. “Look, man,” he said, “I know things have changed from when it was just the two of us in the Bunker. You need some space, just say the word.”

That was the thing, Sam thought: he didn’t want space. He figured Gabriel and Rowena would leave sooner or later. Now that Gabriel was nearly at full power they hardly needed a safe haven, and Macau or Monte Carlo had to be more their style than the Bunker. But Sam wasn’t in any hurry for them to go. If he couldn’t have them – either of them – at least he had their company for now, even if his guts twisted whenever he thought of them together.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Honestly. I think I’m just kind of shell-shocked, after everything.”

Dean hummed. “Well, it’s been a hell of a year,” he said. “Still, you want to head out sometime, just you and me, you let me know. We could kill some vampires, take in a movie, whatever.”

“Just like old times,” said Sam.

“They were good times. Occasionally.” Dean pushed the cart forward. “Aw, sweet,” he said, breaking into a grin, “jumbo muffins are on special.”

Good times they might have been – sometimes – but they couldn’t compare to this: to Dean, healthier and happier than Sam had ever seen him; to Cas, waiting at home to take the grocery bags from Dean’s arms; to Jack, catching his eye to ask if they could fit in an episode or two of _Star Wars Rebels_ before dinner. So what if Sam hadn’t got everything he wanted? It was about time, he told himself firmly, that he learnt to stop being selfish.  

 * * *

Autumn proved to be a rare quiet stretch that year. A vampire killing raccoons in Big Lake, Missouri, an angry ghost possessing a washing machine in a Cincinnati laundromat, a skinwalker prowling around a corporate retreat in the Oregon wilderness. Nothing out of the ordinary – nothing that left them with more than a few scrapes and bruises, especially with Rowena’s protective charms. She didn’t come along on hunts – nor Gabriel, who said he had better things to do than watch them play Nancy Drew – but she liked the challenge of coming up with spells of invisibility or silence, potions that could blind or paralyse, an amulet to ward off vengeful spirits. Now and then, when the case looked particularly interesting, she even helped with research. She said it was better mental exercise than the _Times_ crossword.

Sam was in the library one evening, fighting off sleep, when she came in and arranged herself artfully in one of the chairs. He felt a faint stab of bitterness towards Gabriel – the same as he’d felt back in high school when Dean picked up him after class and drew all the girls’ eyes to him. But what right did he have to be jealous? He didn’t think he’d been imagining the spark between him and Rowena. But he’d waited too long – or maybe she hadn’t meant her flirting in the same way he had. Either way, he could hardly blame her for choosing Gabriel. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want Gabriel himself, after all.

“Burning the midnight oil, are we?” she said.

“Just got caught up reading.”

“ _A Survey of Ghost Sightings in Central Alberta, 1923-1947_ ,” she said, peering at the cover, “ _fascinating_ , I’m sure.” But she didn’t press the point. They knew each other’s sensitive spots – where not to press; where it was safe, even necessary, to press a little.

“So – you and Gabriel,” he said to Rowena, setting down his book.

Rowena fixed him with bright eyes. “Why, Samuel,” she purred, “are you asking me my intentions? I assure you, they aren’t innocent at all. Quite the opposite.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” Sam returned her smile in spite of himself. “What I mean is, I never really imagined either of you as the kind to settle down.”

“Oh, I gathered my rosebuds while I might. But when a girl’s more than three hundred years old, she gets to wanting something – well, some _one_ more long-term,” said Rowena, inspecting her nails. “And I’m fond of the poor man,” she added, suddenly serious. “He understands me.”

“He’s pretty taken with you.”

Rowena considered that. Then she nodded, as if she’d realised something.

“You’re afraid I’ll break his heart,” she said. Sam opened his mouth – what he was going to say, he didn’t know – but Rowena went on talking. “You needn’t fear, Samuel. I told you before,” she said, “I’m a selfish, cruel woman. After Oskar, I didn’t believe I _could_ love anyone. I told myself love was weakness. I didn’t even know I loved my son until he was dead. I didn’t know I –” She faltered. “But I do know, now,” she said, “and I’ll not make the mistake of waiting again.”

“I’m worried about you, too,” said Sam. “Gabriel – he tends to run away from complicated situations.”

“And I’m _very_ complicated,” said Rowena. But she shook her head. “I’ve had men run out on me before, Samuel. At least Gabriel isn’t likely to snap my neck if he loses interest,” archly. Sam winced. Rowena’s expression softened. “And if I do get my heart broken,” she said, “it’s no more than I deserve.”

“You don’t deserve to be hurt,” said Sam.  

“I’ve hurt people.”

“But that’s not who you are,” he said. Almost without thinking he reached across the table for her hand. “Not anymore.”

“Bless you, Samuel,” said Rowena, “you’re too kind-hearted for your own good.” Her eyes were warm. “But thank you for caring,” she said. “I envy whichever girl is lucky enough to win your heart.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. He heard what she wasn’t saying. He’d heard it before. Sometimes it was, “I just want what’s best for you, Sam,” and sometimes it was, “If things were different, Sam”: but what it meant was “No,” though he hadn’t even asked the question – wouldn’t have asked, because he wouldn’t do that to Gabriel. Maybe it was all the history between them, or maybe it was Billie’s prophecy, though he didn’t doubt they could find a way out of that, or maybe it was just that Sam hadn’t asked her and Gabriel had. Whatever it was, he couldn’t blame her for it; but it still stung.

“I don’t know if that’s in the cards,” he said. He let go of her hand. “Not for me, anyway.”

Rowena looked at him with a strange, almost sad expression.

“You’re worth ten dozen of me, Samuel,” she said. “If there’s hope for me and Gabriel, there’s certainly hope for you.”

* * *

That “no” – gentle as it was – should have been the end of things. But whenever he thought the hurt might be starting to scab over, the sight of Rowena unpacking parcels from Harrods, or Gabriel turning up in a Hawaiian shirt to whisk her away, tore it open again. And then, no matter what Rowena had said, he couldn’t help worrying about her – about both of them. Sooner or later, he was afraid, something would happen between them – some misunderstanding that would end in Rowena losing her temper and Gabriel in the wind again, and both of them hurting. He did his best not to let on what he was thinking. It wasn’t his business, and he knew part of the trouble was that he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in nearly a month. He was always more on edge when he didn’t sleep.

But apparently he wasn’t quite as good as hiding it as he’d thought, because early in November, while he was sorting through the heap of old case notes on his desk, Gabriel sauntered into his room and sat down on the bed.

“Rowena tells me you’re worried about us breaking up.” Sam blinked. Gabriel smirked at him. “No offence, Sam, but worrying about our big celebrity divorce when we haven’t even started picking out china patterns – talk about overthinking things.”

“Gabe, I –” 

“Not that I blame you,” Gabriel went on. “I mean, you think _The War of the Roses_ was bad, you haven’t seen some of my exes. Let me tell you, Kathleen Turner’s got nothing on Calypso.” He made a face. “If I promise neither of us is gonna end up dangling from a chandelier, will you relax?”

“Well, ah –” Sam broke off. “I guess this is where I apologise for prying,” he said.

“No harm done. But since you’ve decided to play gossip columnist, what makes you so sure we won’t work out?”

There was something strained in his tone – almost hurt, though maybe Sam was imagining that. Sam frowned. He didn’t want to sound as if he was accusing him. He knew better than most people that when you ran it wasn’t always out of cowardice or selfishness. Sometimes you didn’t have a choice except to run; sometimes it was run or go crazy. But he wasn’t seventeen anymore, and he knew that even if you were running to save yourself, you still hurt the people you left behind.

“It’s just,” he said, “I’ve been wondering – after all this time hanging out with porn stars in Monte Carlo –”

“Not that _that_ lasted,” said Gabriel, sourly.

“Or living it up pretending to be a Trickster –”

“Why settle down now?” Gabriel shrugged. “What can I say?” he said. “We click. She’s got a taste for the finer things in life, I can create the finer things in life with a snap of my fingers. We’re the perfect power couple.” Sam rolled his eyes. “And,” said Gabriel, reluctantly, “she gets me.”

“It’s funny,” said Sam. “She said something similar about you.”

Gabriel didn’t seem surprised. “The things we’ve been through,” he said, “the things we’ve done – there’s not exactly a support group for any of that, you know?” He sighed. “I know what you’re afraid of,” he said. “I get cold feet and run off to Bermuda, she’s left behind. I told you before, Sam: I’m done with running. Rowena gets tired of me? Fine: we go our separate ways, meet for awkward mochaccinos every other decade. But I’m not going to be the one to leave.”

Sam met his eyes. They were beautiful eyes: bright gold in the sunshine, deep amber in the soft light of the Bunker’s lamps. He’d never seen eyes like them. Loki’s hadn’t compared. 

“She’s not the only one I don’t want to get hurt,” he said. It was as much as he dared to say.

“Aw, you care. I’m touched _,”_ said Gabriel. “But I’m a liberated woman, Sam. I can take care of myself.”  

For a little while they sat in silence. Sam expected Gabriel to leave; but to his surprise he stayed put, picking at a loose seam in Sam’s quilt. Finally, he said, abruptly: “You think I’m any good for her?”

“What do you mean?” said Sam, surprised.

“I’m not a good person, Sam,” said Gabriel. “You of all people should know that.”

“I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for.” He was thinking of Gabriel putting himself between them and Michael in the other world; Gabriel saving him and Cas from Asmodeus; Gabriel defending him and Dean at the Elysian Fields Motel. And earlier, before he’d ever known there was such a thing as angels: Gabriel relenting at the Mystery Spot; Gabriel dealing out vengeance to the world’s bullies and predators. “I wouldn’t consider you a friend if I didn’t think you were a good person,” he said.

“You –” For the first time that night, Gabriel looked genuinely surprised. His voice lost its sarcastic note. “Thanks, Sam. Really.”

“It’s only the truth.” But it was only half-true, really. I wouldn’t want you, Sam thought, if I didn’t believe you were a good person.

* * *

It was a few days later that he woke with a start, slouched against the headboard of his bed. Jack’s head was on his shoulder, and in front of them his laptop was still open, paused on a frame of the _Ghost_ carrying out a rescue on an ice moon. Jack was sound asleep, breathing softly. Sam’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d been dreaming about – only fragments: wings, and claws, and wild, inhuman eyes, burning red. His mouth was dry with fear.

He glanced at his phone: it was a quarter past five. Too late to go back to sleep. Carefully, he shifted Jack away from him and got up to start the coffee.

This early in the morning, before whatever magic controlled the Bunker’s systems had brought them all online, it was bitterly cold in the kitchen. Sam stood shivering, waiting for the coffee to brew; and then he started. Very faintly he could hear voices: Rowena’s, lilting and gentle, and Gabriel’s, strangely soft. He went towards the library – then hesitated almost on the threshold, suddenly thinking better of going to ask if they wanted coffee: who knew what they were up to? But what he saw, when he dared to look in, was somehow more innocent and more intimate at the same time. They were sitting side-by-side at the table, their hands clasped, their heads almost pressed together.

Sam gazed at them. They’re really in love, he thought. They really do care about each other. Relief and longing and bitter jealousy were all tangled up together. Numbly, he went back to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. They hadn’t seen him at all: they hadn’t even glanced away from each other. The old, horrible feeling of being unwanted – of being unworthy – seemed to be choking him. It was the same hurt from ten years ago, when Cas, younger and colder, had dismissed him as the boy with the demon blood; the same hurt from when he’d been a kid wearing his brother’s hand-me-downs and a pair of sneakers from the Salvation Army, the kid who never got a birthday invitation or even a friendly note passed across a desk.

When he got back to his room, he saw Jack lying curled up on his side. He looked younger when he was sleeping – very young and very fragile. Sam’s bitterness faded as he felt a sudden sharp pang, thinking of Cas falling asleep in the backseat of the Impala for the first time – back during the first Apocalypse. There wasn’t going to be any second chance for Jack. Lucifer had ripped away his powers for good: now he was as breakable as the rest of them. But he was alive, at least, stirring a little in his sleep, snuffling into Sam’s pillow. Jack was alive, and Dean was free, and Gabriel had fought his way back from the dead. When he thought about it in those terms, he had to admit he’d been luckier than he had any right to expect.

He pulled a blanket over Jack and went to go have a shower, determinedly pushing Gabriel and Rowena out of his mind. But hard as he tried to shove it down, his jealousy kept on rising up again, like infection oozing out of a wound.

* * *

He’d never been especially prone to fantasies about people he knew, and in the past few years he’d indulged himself less and less. He felt almost guilty when he did, as if he was sullying the objects of his fantasising somehow. And for so many of the people he’d loved the memories were tainted with loss: Jess, Eileen, even Ruby. Gabriel, too, and Rowena. It didn’t matter who he loved: death seemed to chase after them. But his dreams were a different thing. Most of those were tainted, too. But every so often he surprised himself with the realisation that he was still capable of having good dreams.

This one was a good one, he thought at first. He was in the heart of a forest. Rowena was lying on her back on the earth, her body shining white against the fallen leaves, her red hair fanned out all around her head; and Gabriel was straddling her, stroking her face, kissing her hair, one moment a god accepting a sacrifice, the next an angel ministering to a worshipper. Sam felt ashamed of himself, as if he was seeing something private, something he had no right to see; but they were so beautiful. He couldn’t look away. Gabriel glanced up, his gold eyes blazing with inhuman light, and smiled at him – not the bright, false smile he usually wore, but a real smile, warm and gentle and full of love.

And then it changed – the smile soured, grew too wide, and it wasn’t Gabriel’s face any longer.

“Hey, Red. _Guess who_?”

Rowena’s eyes opened wide with shock and terror. Lucifer laughed and laughed, and snapped his fingers; and Rowena’s head burst apart.  

Sam woke with a jolt. He was covered all over in cold sweat. He lay still for a moment or two, breathing hard, then felt bile rising in his throat and scrambled for the washrooms.

In the morning his head was throbbing, and the smell of the scrambled eggs and bacon Dean had made for breakfast turned his stomach. He picked at a piece of toast with peanut butter, feeling queasy and off-balance. Jack glanced at him once or twice in a worried way, though Sam tried to smile at him in reassurance.

“C’mon, Sammy, eat up. Most important meal of the day,” said Dean.

“I’m good,” said Sam. “Seriously,” as Dean tried to spoon eggs onto his plate. “Come on, man.”

Gabriel clicked his tongue. “Picky eater, huh?” he said. “How about a special order?” Before Sam could even process what he meant he snapped his fingers.

Sam flinched.

He came back to himself a second later; but Dean saw it, and – what was worse – so did Gabriel. Dean glanced at him in concern, and Gabriel’s face shuttered. Guilt sat heavy as a rock in Sam’s stomach. In front of him was a bowl of fruit salad.

“Thanks, Gabe,” he said

“Sure,” said Gabriel, flatly. “No problem.”

He forced himself to take a spoonful of melon. His stomach nearly rebelled; but he got it down. But the bright feeling of the morning was gone. The conversation was somehow stilted. He took another spoonful, mechanically. “Sam,” said Cas, frowning at him, “are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Sam. “Some kind of a stomach bug, maybe. I’ll be fine.”

Usually Gabriel would have offered to heal him, or depending on his mood simply gone ahead and done it without asking; but this time he didn’t so much as raise his hand. Sam forced down as much of his breakfast as he could stomach and got up with the excuse of grabbing his phone from his bedroom. About five minutes later he was kneeling in front of the toilet, throwing up everything he’d just eaten. _What a mess you are,_ Lucifer hissed in his ear. _You just have to ruin_ everything, _don’t you?_ He rinsed his mouth and studied himself in the mirror, trying to arrange his face into a normal expression. 

On his way back to the kitchen he ran into Gabriel in the corridor.

“Listen,” said Sam, “about earlier – I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I scared you, you flipped.” Gabriel’s eyes were dark. “Not exactly unfamiliar with how that works.”

“Still, I –”

“Forget it, Sam. I’m sorry too, for what it’s worth.”

Sam nodded. Gabriel looked almost as if he wanted to say something else. There were too many things Sam wanted to say; but he didn’t have any right. When he glanced back, at the entrance to the kitchen, Gabriel was staring after him with an unreadable expression.

* * *

Four days later, he and Dean came back from dealing with a pair of werewolves in St. Louis to find two of Rowena’s suitcases in the war room.

“What the hell?” said Dean. Gabriel tossed a battered-looking briefcase next to the suitcases and turned to face them. There wasn’t any sign of Rowena. “You guys planning a vacation someplace?”

“We,” said Gabriel, with a brittle-looking smile, “are moving out.” Sam stared at him. “Nothing personal, fellas: it’s us, not you. Or more specifically, it’s the Kansas winter, not you. We’re off to Bora Bora. Send you a postcard.”

“Hold on,” said Sam, “what?”

“Anyway,” said Gabriel, “got to go. Signing the rental agreement this afternoon.”

“Wait, Gabe –”

But it was too late: he was gone. Sam dropped his hand. Dean heaved a sigh. “Well, hell,” he said. “Cas liked having him around.” He shook his head and hefted his duffle. “You mind if I take first shower?”

Sam waved him off. There were things he had to do – the scrape on his arm needed to be bandaged, or else he needed to see Cas, and he had notes to make in his journal – but his energy was sapped. When Dean was gone, he sat down heavily at the base of one of the columns. You knew they were going to leave, sooner or later, he told himself. You always knew they were going to leave, and now it’s happened. You haven’t got any right to be unhappy. He was still sitting there, staring into space, when Jack came up and sat down next to him.

“Sam,” said Jack, “are you okay?”                                                            

Sam turned to look at him. “Sure,” he said. “Of course.”

“You seem sad lately.”

“I’m fine,” said Sam, feeling annoyed with himself. It was his job to worry about Jack; he still resented his own dad, all these years later, for all the hours spent trying to predict his moods, when he’d be home, whether he’d stop at two beers or end up passed out on the couch. “I’ve just got some stuff on my mind. Are _you_ okay?”

“I wish Gabriel wasn’t leaving. Rowena too, but Gabriel most of all.”

“Jack,” said Sam, “you can call him anytime.”  

“I know that. It’s _why_ he’s leaving,” said Jack. Sam frowned at him, questioning. “I saw the way he looked at you in the kitchen Wednesday morning,” said Jack. “Like he hated himself for scaring you. I know he was cruel to you, back at the Mystery Spot. He told me everything. But he’s trying to be better, now. He _wants_ to be better.” He looked at Sam. “He _is_ trying,” he said, and it sounded like a question.

Sam heard what he hadn’t said. “He’s nothing like Lucifer,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about him. Unless he tries to teach you to play tricks on people.”

It wasn’t a very good joke, but Jack smiled all the same. But after a moment the smile slipped away.

“I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t deserve to be with the people you love,” he said. “I don’t want him to feel that way.”

“I’m not sure Gabriel loves any of us, except you,” said Sam.

“He likes it here. He feels safe.” Jack chewed his lip. “Would you talk to him?” he said, hopefully. 

* * *

For someone who apparently couldn’t wait to leave Kansas, Rowena was taking a long time to finish packing. Sam found her in her bedroom folding a yellow Hermès scarf, shaking it out, refolding it. If he hadn’t already been persuaded by Jack’s words, that would have done it. He had to talk to Gabriel. Not just for Jack’s sake, but Rowena’s too – and Gabriel’s.

“Samuel.” Her voice was dull. “Come to wish me _bon voyage?_ ”

“I hope not. If I pray to Gabriel, will he answer me?”

“Why shouldn’t he?”

“I get the feeling some of this has to do with me.”

Rowena sighed. “He’ll answer you,” she said.

And he did. Almost as soon as Sam started to pray – _Gabriel, listen, I_ really _need to talk to you –_ he felt the faint static charge of grace wash over him. “Don’t tell me,” said Gabriel, in as snide a tone as Sam had ever heard him use, “you want to keep the damage deposit.”

“Like I said, I want to talk to you.”

“What’s to talk about?”

“Maybe I’m reading too much into this,” said Sam. “I mean, if you’re really leaving because you prefer the weather in Bora Bora, fine. But I just wanted to say – don’t leave because you think it’ll be easier on me.”

He was prepared for Gabriel to laugh in his face. Instead he sat down on Rowena’s bed.  

“Look, Sam,” he said, “I’m not running away. You’ve got my number on speed dial. You need me or Rowena, we’ll come. But in the meantime –”

“Jack’s going to miss you,” said Sam. “ _I’m_ going to miss you. Both of you.” Gabriel didn’t say anything. Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Why are you leaving, really?”

It was Rowena, not Gabriel, who answered him. “We can’t stay,” she said. Sam turned to her. “When we – when we got together for the second time,” she said, slowly, “it was because I wasn’t sleeping. I _do_ need sleep,” dryly. “But I’ve been having nightmares. He found me in the kitchen looking to see where Dean kept his scotch.”

“Nightmares,” said Sam. “About what Lucifer – did to you?”

“That,” said Rowena, “and about what I – what I did. Planning to kill you, leaving you in the Cage with – with Lucifer.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I told you,” she said, “he and I – we understand each other. We’ve both done horrible things.”

“But you aren’t that person anymore,” said Sam.

“You keep on telling me that, Samuel –”

“Because it’s true.”

“Yeah,” said Gabriel, harshly, “see, here’s the thing. You hurt people, you leave people behind, it’s because at least part of you _wants_ to. And you can push that part down and you can try to do better, but you can’t ever cut it out of you.”

“By that standard, I’m still the junkie who let Lucifer out of the Cage,” said Sam.

“You’re telling me you don’t feel that way?” said Gabriel. “Anyway, that’s different. You and Dean were manipulated by Heaven and Hell till you couldn’t see straight. Nobody ever made me and Rowena do anything. The worst things we did, we did them because we wanted to. Taking revenge on Loki, teaching lessons to the dicks of the world – I don’t regret any of it. But everything else –? I ran away from just about every fight I ever faced. I put you through hell at the Mystery Spot, instead of taking a stand and telling you the truth about what Heaven had in store for you two. _And you’re still scared of me_.”

He fell silent, looking pale and miserable.

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Sam, startled. “Everything you’ve done – you’re trying to do better.”

“It isn’t just about that,” said Rowena.

“Then what _is_ it about?”

She was twisting the scarf in her hands. “We can’t stay here,” she said. “ _I_ can’t stay. Maybe I can make up for some of the things I’ve done; but I – I’ll never be someone you could – you could love – not the way I want you to.” Sam stared at her. She doesn’t mean it, he thought, she can’t. He’d lost his chance with her – or he’d never had one at all. “I thought I could stand it,” she went on. “But being around you, knowing I can’t have you –”

Sam’s eyes went from her to Gabriel and back again.

“Yeah,” said Gabriel, not looking at him, “me too. Some joke, huh?”

For about ten or twelve seconds Sam couldn’t speak.

“You really feel that way – about me,” he said, at last. “Both of you. _That’s_ why you’re leaving.” Their white, unhappy faces were the answer. “You think that because I – I’ve done terrible things, too,” he said. “Things I can’t ever forget or make up for. But I – I try to do better. That’s all I can do – that’s all anybody can do. You aren’t bad people – either of you.”

“Newsflash, Sam: repeating something a whole lot of times doesn’t make it true,” said Gabriel.

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Sam. “I’ve been dreaming about Lucifer – about the Cage. You snapped your fingers, and for a minute I saw him instead of you. But I’m not afraid of _you._ ”

He was shaky on his feet. He felt like he was dreaming; and in the back of his head was a nasty whisper – _any moment now he’ll break down laughing: it’s just another one of his jokes. Who’d ever want_ you? _You’re a mess._ But he pushed it away. Even if he didn’t feel that way, Gabriel wouldn’t do that to him. It was real – it had to be real. He sat down beside Gabriel on Rowena’s bed and put one hand to his face, and before Gabriel could take flight again Sam kissed him.

Gabriel recoiled, and Sam’s stomach dropped. Then he saw the look on Gabriel’s face.

“Sam,” he said, pleading, “don’t screw with me. Not about this. _Please._ ”

“I’m not screwing with you. I promise.” He forced himself not to reach out, not to stroke Gabriel’s hair or caress his cheek – not till they were sure of each other. “I’ve been so jealous of you,” he said, “of her –” Rowena was looking on wide-eyed – “of both of you. This is I want. Both of you.” It was bizarre to think of anyone believing they weren’t worthy of _him_ ; but Sam willed Gabriel to understand – to believe. “What do you say?” he said.

Neither of them said anything. Then:

“If you mean it,” said Rowena, almost in tears – “I don’t deserve you – but if you mean it, I’m too selfish not to say yes.” She grabbed Gabriel by the shoulder. “Say yes, for God’s sake!” she said.

“You’re crazy,” said Gabriel. “Both of you.”

But he didn’t move away; and Sam saw the growing hope in his eyes, just before he pulled Rowena down and kissed her too.

* * *

There were more bad days than good, even after that. Gabriel walked in his dreams sometimes, which helped a little, and Rowena made him a sleep charm, which helped a little too. On the nights when he lay awake alone in a dingy motel room, his brother and Cas tangled up together in the next bed, he pressed his hand to Rowena’s charm at his throat and tried to think of good things: Rowena herself, laughing at him over the top of her book; Gabriel, sunning his wings on the roof of the Bunker; his brother and Jack and Cas and Mom, his family, safe and happy at last.

But on the nights when the three of them were together – in the Bunker, or a suite in the Château Laurier, or under the stars on the surface of the moon – he reached for their hands and let them bring him back to himself. And sometimes – more often as the weeks went by – it was Gabriel or Rowena who reached out, tentatively, for him.  

END

I am the Angel of the Moon,

Darkened, to be rekindled soon

  Beneath the azure cope!

Nearest to earth, it is my ray

That best illumes the midnight way.

  I bring the gift of Hope!

\- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, _The Golden Legend_

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Multiple scenes involving trauma/PTSD, including nightmares and stress-induced vomiting; brief, non-graphic violence; non-graphic sexual activity; a sexual encounter in a dream sequence becomes frightening when one participant turns into someone else, but no graphic sexual assault occurs; _Star Wars Rebels_ spoilers


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